


only i am in your head (as a headline)

by thrice



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Pet Play, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 06:56:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11709189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thrice/pseuds/thrice
Summary: Phil's gone, Dan's bored— and stumbles upon something new.





	only i am in your head (as a headline)

Phil isn’t home.

Dan has to wait.

He hasn’t been home for about 3 days, family visits to the _Sunniest of Sun_ — lovely florida, with it’s blaring blue skies that barely rival the deep swirling shade of blue that rests in his own irises, a treat and privilege to get close enough to stare into. Most likely off frolicking on a beach’s sandy floors; chatting up a storm with his brother and rather flamboyant girlfriend about potential wedding plans— leaving Dan to sit in front of his office computer and look at random articles on _Buzzfeed_ and _BBC_ just because.

There’s the usual bits of ache in his heart and in his brain, as usual; it’s feels way too drafty in here, cold and lonely. Despite it all, it's there. But this— this abandoned feeling caused by the other’s departure is practiced, to them. It's memorized. They've done this before. It still doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt, that _every_ Skype call commenced is the slightest bit emotional— that every mile apart can be felt with a tug.

There’s an article that comes up after reading one that advices parents to confiscate their kids’ phones for a while and take them out to do something more productive, and it felt kind of like an insult to him as he needed to put himself to _work_ (those pre-filmed gaming videos aren’t gonna edit themselves, you know) and then to _sleep_ ; but he wasn’t, he wasn’t feeling very productive right now. Productivity tried for _hours_ to be his friend, but laziness got in the way and distractions tried to pull him by the collar, so that was the end of that.

Page comes into view— bright whites and minimal colors. He squints, reading the page in a flabbergasted matter, fisting his fringe in utter shock.

Pet play. Literal _collars attached to human skin_ , and _animal roleplay._ That was the article’s focus.

“Who does these, who would spend their time—” Dan stumbled, brown artificiality stuck between his fingers—

— _A couple in Little Rock, Arkansas gave in to the idea,_ the article says, and he suddenly feels the need to throw up: _Alexandra and Louis Markton stumbled upon it after Alex scrolling down on the internet one dull Sunday afternoon, and thought they could attempt it._

 _It’s new and different, at least new to me,_ says Alexandra, _I like different. And I liked the experience a whole lot._

“Why,” Dan says. “Why would you ever? I mean, I've seen some pretty kinky shit— done some too, y’know, but this is just; it’s just something else.”

_Alexandra also states that in the stress that she loves the whole celebrated experience as well during sex; formally called a “Praise kink”—_

He could not read any further.

Time paces. He looks away, laces a pencil in between his fingers, watches how fast his fingers curl and his heart churn at the absence of the one person he will always, _always_ yearn for the most.

The mind-numbing feeling prevented him from doing anything else, too, so he tucks off to sleep an hour later, leaving the article up on the mac.

No one will have to know. Ever.

**

Except for, well, a certain someone else.

“What—” He heard from upstairs, and “What in God’s name were you looking at last night? I've seen you look up furry porn once and I guess this is similar but—”

“But what?” Dan yells back. And oh, he remembers, Phil is here, _joyjoyjoyjoy_ to the world.

He feels himself running nearly at full speed towards the office, he’s happy and it all rushes to him so fiercely, like a bolting train.

There’s a small smile hidden in Phil’s lips; and it quickly spreads into a full blown grin. Three days felt like three decades and one million miles apart; they knew that better than anyone, that _feeling._  Welcome home.

“Heel,” says Phil. It's a joke, really.

Dan stops, playfully darts his doe eyes like a gun, fond-like aura shooting off as ammo.

A smile. “I—I missed you too,” Phil responds at this, digging his finger into the craters of Dan’s cheek, greeting them like an old friend; sending him the kind of look that would cause digital onlookers to go into cardiac arrest— the kind of touch that made everything else become nothing and this becoming the only thing that matters, the only thing that ever will matter.

(For years to come, and those years after that.)

He gestures to the computer. “But what were you doing at 11:00 p.m, looking up pet play kinks? See, that's what I'm asking here.”

Dan shrugs. “I kind of considered us doing it for a while this morning.”

“You didn't actually—”

“I did.”

“Wow.” He’s speechless. They both turn back to the screen.

“You wanna—wanna try it tonight?” In Phil’s eyes dances curiosity.

Dan shrugs. “If you want to.”

“No, if both of us want to. Are you sure you wanna spent some time attaching a collar to yourself and making you roll over and heel and tell you only nice things like _good boy,_ _that’s a good boy_ and like, give you toys and things. We have to come to a collective decision, Dan. I don't want to force you to do something you’re uncomfortable with.” Phil’s eyes aren't dosed with humor anymore. They're staring back at Dan’s, waiting for a reply.

“If only you want to,” He repeats. He tugs on Dan’s arm, grabs his hand and draws circles into his palm; kissing the middle.

Dan doesn't move. He’s uncertain again.

“Okay, that's fine.” Phil nods. “That's good, we’ve settled it. I'll go into the room and change, and I'll help you upload one of the videos you edited, yeah?”

Dan takes this offer and mirrors his nod, watching as he ruffles his hair— like one would do to a dog, and disappears down the stairs, into his room.

**

Upon Phil’s bed lay a collar, a black felt bone toy and a matching tail.

He shouldn't be surprised, he could tell that there was at least a hint of interest towards the whole ordeal; but he was. This wasn't them. This was new.

But everything they've ever done within the span of seven months was new as well; new home before true home, opening up the cracks to their wall and letting a few secrets skip out before sealing it up again. It’s all new. Phil relaxes.

Dan arrives. He kneels before him, as if Phil is a _God_ that can only grant him all of his wishes and rid him of his troubles; and that was exactly what he felt like to him at the moment; he needed a _distraction._

Phil attaches the red collar to him ( _Is this too_ _tight?_ No. _Okay._ ) and helps him with the tail; he places himself down carefully and instructs him: _up_ , and Dan gets up— _good boy_ , _very good boy_ , Phil tells him. And he is; he’s a good boy within the depths of trouble that always laid around and bubbled underneath the both of them, that sticky feeling of _not good enough_  that sticks around; gloomy and stubborn. He’s the bestest one, bestest pup, bestest boy around for _sure_ , so, as Phil thinks to Dan’s thinking, it’s useless. It's useless because he’s here, and he loves _him_. “Heel,” Phil says, almost like a sharp command, and Dan stops. He doesn't know why he’s stopping, but alas, he must.

“You wanna play?” says Phil.

Dan shakes his head in approval, lightning fast and eagerly.

Phil grins, drawing himself to full height. “Okay, _Pup._ ” He was going to have to get used to that. “Let’s play.”


End file.
